See You Soon
by Bammshee
Summary: Cyclonus's goodbye to Tailgate before diving into the Dead Universe [Fluff] [Contains spoilers]


**After reading Dark Cybertron 2/MTMTE 23 (or whatever you want to call it.) I NOTICED SOMETHING. Cyclonus DID NOT say GOODBYE to Tailgate! Well, this won't do! I thought to myself so here you go:**

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Tailgate, who usually filled quiet spaces with innocent chatter, was quiet. He was hunched on his berth in the Hab Suite he shared with Cyclonus, huddled in a sheet of tin foil. Initially, being buried in foil had been necessary to insulate body heat. Now that his system functions were regulating themselves within 'about-normal' parameters he didn't need his cuddly silver blanket anymore but he still clung to it for comforting purposes. That same purpose was shared with every nick-nack, gift and trinket he'd accumulated since Ratchet had discharged him from medical facility.

The outpouring of concern from his friends had been overwhelming. They flocked to see him and cluttered the room with presents. Tailgate's half of the Hab Suite was looking more and more like a carnival where as Cyclonus's side remained a barren, functional space. It had been the cause for many jokes. Jokes Tailgate could share in because his friends visited him regularly but eventually their enthusiasm wore off, Tailgate would be bed-bound for sometime and the influx of guests dwindled because ship normality persists. His friends had jobs to take care of. Tailgate didn't. The decline in visits had been so gradual that he'd hardly noticed his days being filled up with more and more idle time to daydream but that didn't bother him because Cyclonus slept in the opposite berth.

But now...even Cyclonus was about to disappear.

"Oh." Tailgate murmured. The larger mech made himself look presentable. He was polished and glowed with pride. He did not look at Tailgate when he described to the minibot exactly where he would be going and what he would be doing. He'd made it abundantly clear that, unlike Luna-1, this wasn't a field trip for the crew to attend at their leisure. He could make no exceptions. Tailgate must remain aboard the Lost Light and Cyclonus must leave.

A pang of insecurity struck Tailgate's churning spark, he keened softly and tried to sink deeper into the sanctuary of his tin foil blanket.

He didn't know anything about the Dead University and Cyclonus's abrupt explanation when he asked for more information made it sound like a terrible place.

Tailgate's vocal components twitched. A thousand questions collected in his thoughts but none of which he could conjugate. And Cyclonus was completely stoic. More so than was average. His countenance was darkened by misgiving and Tailgate knew where he was going was dangerous and that, although neither of them spoke this aloud, this might be goodbye.

That thought made Tailgate's spark quake.

Cyclonus had _saved_ him. Strong, resilient, unbreakable Cyclonus. The heroism of the other mech infatuated Tailgate and made Cyclonus seem untouchable. The large mech had suffered greatly in the battles they plunged into with the Lost Light but Tailgate never sensed apprehension or foreboding inflicting the other mech fields. He just stepped up to the task, did his duty and one way or another came home... or had Tailgate to bring him home.

But Tailgate wasn't welcome in the Dead Universe. Even if he was, his pathetic, sickly body wouldn't allow him to walk much further than the Hab Suite door.

"Who else is going?"

"Rodimus assembled a small team, Orion Pax, formerly known as Optimus Prime will accompany us along with another from Orion's quarry: Hardhead."

"O-oh." Optimus Prime! The Great Optimus Prime fighting along side his Cyclonus. It was so exciting, wasn't it? Tailgate wanted to tell Cyclonus how exciting that was but the urge was quelled by the uncertainty rolling off Cyclonus's posture and Tailgate's concerns overlapped his enthusiasm.

"How are you getting there?"

"I don't know?"

Suddenly he seemed unable to contain his string of questions, he realised too late that he must have irritating Cyclonus greatly. As he continued to babble he watched tension creep into Cyclonus's frame and make his shoulders arch.

"How are you going to find what you're looking for?"

"I don't know."

"Do you think you'll be a long time?"

"I don't kn"-

"What about fuel, will you have enough fuel?"

"I don't"-

"Is Ultra Magnus going?"

"No."

"Why?"

"Someone must stay to look after the ship."

"It would be better if Ultra Magnus went, couldn't he go instead of you?"

Cyclonus turned sharply. Optics glowing with barely contained rage. It made Tailgate flinch. He mumbled an apology, unaware of what he'd said that could have offended Cyclonus so much. He just wanted Cyclonus to be _safe. _Didn't he understand? They'd just escaped one storm, Tailgate barely clinging to his life, and now Cyclonus was racing off head first into the next fray. Why couldn't they be peaceful?

In between friendly visits from the crew he and Cyclonus had spoken. Cyclonus rarely left the hab suite, he remained constantly as Tailgate's minder except when he left to collect their daily rations of energon. Then he'd return and sit at Tailgate's side. They talked about anything, sometimes it was contenting just to be next to Cyclonus and listen to him as he read, or hummed, or the faint rumbling sounds he made when he dozed into a sleep cycle.

Tailgate couldn't bare to lose that and spend his days miserably watching the walls while the Lost Light careered into its next battle without Cyclonus - leaving him behind in some forsaken universe.

Tailgate couldn't deny he was being selfish but,

"_I don't want you to go!"_ The words he couldn't say hung heavily in his spark.

Cyclonus was still staring at him and Tailgate's gaze drooped to his fingers twitching anxiously in his lap. He wanted Cyclonus to say something, to reassure him but as always he was adamantly silently and their thoughts weren't given a voice.

The light in Cyclonus's optics dimmed, his fists curled at his sides.

"Goodbye, Tailgate." He muttered.

As he turned to leave Tailgate felt _it._ A rush of something so complex pulsed by Cyclonus's turbulent EM fields. It was fear. Cyclonus was as afraid and apprehensive and lonely as Tailgate. The reveal must have been accidental because the sudden outcry of feelings was clamped down almost immediately. Something about Tailgate disrupted Cyclonus's guard, was it the minibot's tenuous expression? Or did he just have a nack for worming under people's plating.

"Wait!" Tailgate blurted. He tried to thrash off the foil blanket and got tangled.

Cyclonus sucked in a bracing ventilation and turned. Tailgate was kicking off the blanket then he stumbled off the berth. He started hobbling across the floor, clumsily tip-toeing round the mounds of Get-Well-Soon presents.

Tailgate struggled, his limbs grinding together. This was exertion, exactly what Ratchet ordered him _not_ to do. But it would be worth the discomfort just to give Cyclonus a proper goodbye.

As he was stepping free of his ring of presents Tailgate wobbled, a few joints seized and his balance threatened to collapse but moments before disaster he was caught in Cyclonus's strong hands.

The larger bot was kneeling and staring directly into Tailgate's watery visor.

Tailgate lifted his stiff hands to Cyclonus's face, the action was slightly jarred but he achieved what he wanted.

Under his touch he felt a minute quiver pass through Cyclonus.

"I'm going to miss you, Cyclonus." Tailgate confessed. He was unable to stop the flush of heat warming his frame. Cyclonus's piercing gaze burned into him and Tailgate felt his vocal components clench (It wasn't just an after effect of Cybercrosis) "Please stay safe."

Cyclonus folded into his arms and drew the minibot against his roughened frame. He held Tailgate firmly and Tailgate went weak. His knees quaked and his ventilation stuttered. Cyclonus was everything to him. When he felt the large mech nuzzle his face into Tailgate's neck he almost keened.

This was still supposed to be a goodbye, it had gone on too long already and Rodimus and Optimus Prime were expecting him but that didn't stop Cyclonus from savouring the feeling of the warm, slightly shaky body pressed over his spark chamber.

He lifted Tailgate and returned him to the berth, kicking aside all the junk that obscured his path. A decorative basket of bottled oils tumbled and the cleaning products rolled across the floor.

Tailgate sighed again. He was lowered gently onto his berth. He unhooked his arms from round Cyclonus's neck as the cozy foil sheet was tucked over his shoulders with care. It rustled as Tailgate shifted snuggly into it. He inhaled the smell of Cyclonus - it was hot wax and bitter engex, the most comforting smell in Tailgate's world.

Cyclonus rubbed his forehelm on top of Tailgate's head.

"I will return." He promised. Clawed fingers curled round Tailgate's hand and squeezed. Tailgate nodded.

"I know you will."

He tried to push his smile into his EM fields and let Cyclonus know how much he trusted him even though Cyclonus was already withdrawing. Too much emotion had been churned up and that warrior needed a period to wrestle his feeling into submission. The walk to the loading dock would have to suffice.

"Thank you, Tailgate." He murmured very softly and then promptly left.

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_Reviews are always useful._


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